Cycling in Amsterdam is..

In Amsterdam, Wendy asked me if I wanted to join her and James for cycling through Amsterdam.

I said, "sure!"

Then reality hit me. I hadn't touched a bike since I was thirteen years old.

I look at bikes whizzing by me. Nobody wears helmets.

I almost said no. Fear of crashing, and more fear of looking like a dork.

The sunny day at Doolin refreshed itself in my mind. Neeve, the pretty Irish girl, and her invitation that went untaken due to my Skellig Michael planning, and more due to "you want me to bike on those narrow Irish roads and watch three girls outdo me?"

Yes. That wouldn't be so bad. Cycling near the Cliffs of Moher on a sunny day with 'em would have been magical. And I said no.

And now another girl of Vietnamese descent was asking the same thing. I guess life lessons span all countries, haha. Huh?

Even as I said, "maybe, maybe not"
My mind yelled, DO IT!

We get our bikes. The guy teaches us how to lock & unlock 'em. I master that in two seconds. Everything's lookin' good, right?

I kept telling myself, "you never forget how to ride a bike."

Part of my mind said, "watch me, haha."

James zooms on like a master cyclist.
Wendy excels like a dark ninja.

I...wobble. I wobble like a drunk dinosaur on a unicycle.

I think, "you fool, you never mastered balancing on...cobblestones.. With bike paths next to pedestrian paths and potted plants blocking the way. Oh, and cars. You sure you don't want a helmet?"

Yes, I actually think that.

In the narrow alley I'm heading for a woman on a bike. 

I'm trying not to hit her.

She looks at me and smiles, "Go on ahead, I don't know how to ride," she confesses.

I'm trying not to hit her.

I over-correct my wobble and head straight for her. Then over-correct that and head straight for the wall. Then over-correct and head past her. "Bye," I say with a smile.

If anyone asks, I'm avoiding a sniper. Or a crocodile.


Ahead I spot the road.
"What is this, Ireland all over again?" I recall taking fifteen minutes to back out onto my first non-American road. Getting a flat tyre too. Enough! Cycling people don't think such thoughts. They just go. So go, Paul, go!


Paul goes. His initial burst of acceleration creates a primary wobble that permeates through the entire bike. I HATE that.

I start to topple and before I do my hand squeezes the brake and my feet touch the ground and I stand there, A Dork in Headlights.

I had been on a bike probably four times in my life. Go Paul, go.

Pressing the pedal forward results in one gigantic wobble and a screeching halt.

Three cyclists pass me and whiz down the street. Wendy and James are up ahead. Getting tinier and tinier. I'm mad at myself for not practicing on my bike when I was a kid. Really mad.

Just like any skill you ignore. If you don't hone it, it will dissipate.

Skills...honing...I think about my shyness and anxiety and get mad. At myself. I'll deal with that, but first I gotta survive this bike ride, haha.

As Frustration Neurons(TM) fire in the emotional part of my brain, I ponder if I should just stick to taking photos of castles. No! My brain fires Anti-Regret Neurons(TM). Like a freaking War of the Lobes..

I walk my bike across the street. I'm gonna do this one piece at a time. Since I'm not good at starting from a complete stop, I'll walk my bike across streets. Anything to keep me going.

And as I mount up and pedal ahead, my wobble turns into a turbulent glide.

I find Wendy and James waiting on the curb.
"You guys can go on without me," I insist.

"Let's stick together, it's no problem," they say. Awesome friends. :)

We go forward. Through a curved street. The breeze cools my forehead. Bike bells chime. The sounds of the city grows silent and a sense of peace overwhelms me. When I'm not trying to crash, that is. It's a weird feeling, but I like it.

"I'm biking in Amsterdam", I say. I look to the right and see my reflection in one of the glass buildings. I like the face I see. Even more than the one I saw on the ferry to France.

My brain says something that I knew was waiting in the caverns of my neural soil, "I'm enjoying this."

Wendy and James wait for me at the next intersection.

We ride to Vondelpark and bike amongst the grass, people, and fellow cyclists.

Spotting a hot dog stand, we get off our bikes and eat by the pond.

We stack out bikes on the ground. I feel compelled to take a photo. It symbolizes..something.


We ride.

We get separated.

I text Wendy to go on ahead.

Five minutes later I'm at the "I Amsterdam" sign and I spot 'em. Converging destinies, perhaps?

We ride to the harbor. The new area. The docks!

James and Wendy stop to take pics. This time I stay on my bike. I ride up and down the docks, practicing my turns. I feel peace. When they mount I join them, a V-formation continues.

My neurons show character development. The earlier frustration turns to glee and satisfaction that I did learn to bike in Wildwood all those years ago. That practice, albeit small, allowed me to hone my balance that much quicker. Wendy and James aren't waiting for me because I'm keeping up.


Any practice is good practice. I guess you never forget how to ride a bike. It just takes a forty-five minutes to jog my memory haha. Maybe I looked like a dork, but I was a dork biking through Amsterdam!

Biking's done. Now to deal with that whole shyness thing. The trial never ends..

I know one thing.

Wobbling is a good sign.